


Movie Blondes and Motorbikes

by MotherMaple



Series: For a good time, call Betty [1]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Best Friends, Break Up, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Gen, Prequel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 21:32:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12219351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MotherMaple/pseuds/MotherMaple
Summary: A prequel to 'For a good time, call Betty' - Who needs a boyfriend like Archie when you've got a friend like Jughead?Or, Archie breaks up with Betty and Jughead is there for her.One-shot





	Movie Blondes and Motorbikes

**Author's Note:**

> This is set about three years before the original story, in the first week of freshman year. Betty and Jughead aren't living together, yet, and I figure they're both about 18 years old.

Jughead stood outside Betty's dorm, resting his head on the flimsy door, waiting. "Come on, Betts. You can't stay in there forever." He knocked again and rattled the doorknob. "Open up, Cooper. I have a spare key and I'm not afraid to use it." The door flew open and he grabbed the doorframe to stop himself from falling into the room.  

"Hello, Forsythe," said a tall, slim girl with a neat bob and a peter-pan collar. "Is there a reason that you're threatening to break into our room?" 

"Hi, Amelia," Jughead replied, suppressing a groan. "Is Betty here?" 

Amelia raised an impeccably groomed eyebrow. "Isn't that something you should have ascertained before you demanded that she open the door?" 

"It was a rhetorical question, Amelia; I know she's here. Can I come in?" 

Amelia sighed and stepped back, bowing him mockingly into the room. "Keep it down to a dull roar, please. I need to practice." 

"Will do. Sorry for the disturbance." 

She waved her hand dismissively and sat down at an electric keyboard, pulling on headphones and rattling sheet music impressively. Jughead rolled his eyes and turned to Betty's half of the room. Betty was sitting on her unmade bed, hugging her stuffed cat and staring at the wall with her eyes unfocused and glassy. "You heard?" she asked quietly, not looking at him.  

"Straight from the horse's mouth," he confirmed, sitting behind her and pulling her back against his chest. "He's an asshole, Betts. He doesn't deserve you." 

Betty twisted slightly and leaned her shoulder against him, curling up and letting him wrap his arms around her. "Obviously he thinks he deserves better than me." 

"He didn't actually say that, did he?" Jughead silently damned Archie and his inability to demonstrate anything resembling tact. Yeah, he'd told Jughead the real reason for the breakup, but he couldn't have actually been cruel enough to tell Betty, could he? 

"No, he just said someone had made him realize that what he felt for me wasn't what it should be." Tears welled up in her huge eyes and Jughead had a fleeting impression of a Disney princess looking up at him. "I can read between the lines. I'm not an idiot." 

He swallowed a litany of curses and pulled her closer. "I'm sorry, Betty." 

"Yeah," she said with a watery smile. "Me too. Did he tell you who she is?" 

 Archie had told him the whole story when Jughead had run into him that afternoon and asked him to check on Betty.  

_"I didn't want to hurt her, Jug, but if I was supposed to be with her, I wouldn't feel like this about someone else, right?"_

Jughead had refrained from smacking Archie, merely pointing out (none too politely) that there was no one better than Betty, but if Archie had his sights on a different woman, then Betty was better off without him.  

"Yeah, he did." He couldn't lie to her. 

Betty drew a shuddering breath and sighed. "Is she pretty?" 

"She's not ugly," he admitted, knots forming in his stomach. This line of questioning was not going to go anywhere good. Archie's new obsession was nowhere near Betty's league, but she was definitely pretty enough to cast seeds of doubt in the mind of a woman scorned. 

"Come on, Jug," Betty snorted. "Archie didn't dump me for a toad. Tell me the truth." 

He sighed and fished his phone out of his pocket, pulling up the campus directory. "Here," he said, handing her the phone. "That's her. You may as well see her and decide for yourself." 

"Veronica Lodge," Betty murmured. "And of course, she's beautiful. I bet she's smart and funny, too. Look at her dress! She looks like a model." She handed the phone back and slumped miserably against him. 

"Hey," he chided, stroking her arm. "She's got nothing on you. Archie has shit for brains." 

"Oh, please, Juggie. Look at her! She belongs on the cover of _Vogue_!" 

He kissed the top of her head and told her hair sincerely, "Maybe, maybe not. Doesn't change the fact that you're the sweetest, smartest, most beautiful woman on this campus." 

"Not beautiful enough for Archie-I'll-follow-my-pecker-to-greener-pastures-Andrews," she grumbled.  

Mentally rolling his eyes at himself for recognizing the line, he poked her side and said, "Really, Betts? _Legally Blonde_?" 

She grinned lightly. "The ultimate breakup movie." 

"How many times have you watched it today?" 

"Just once." 

"And why aren't we packing for Harvard yet?" He already knew the answer: Betty and Archie had never been meant to last. He just wanted to hear Betty acknowledge it. 

Betty huffed and sat up. "Because I'm end-of-movie-Elle, Goddamnit. I’m not going to change myself to get him back! If he doesn't want me, I’m not going to fucking beg." 

Amelia glared over her shoulder and shook her head in obvious disapproval. Betty rolled her eyes expressively at Jughead. "I'm getting her noise-canceling headphones for Christmas," she whispered. "Ears like a damn bat." 

Jughead chanced a glance at Amelia who was studiously ignoring them again. "One week of roommate hell down, three months to go," he whispered back. "Meanwhile, if you're end-of-movie-Elle, why the fuck are you sitting here looking miserable, dressed like you just got dumped?" 

"I think I'm allowed a few hours to mourn." 

He shrugged. "I mean, if you think he's worth it. Really though, is he?"   

"Probably not. I’m more pissed than anything, but he was my first boyfriend and I do love him. Or I did. Either way, it merits a few tears."  

Well, that was fair enough. "If you say so. I notice you didn't ask for my opinion, but I don't think he deserves to have this kind of effect on you." 

She snorted derisively. "Said the guy who didn't shower for a week when his first girlfriend dumped him." 

"It was not a week."  

"Uh, it was a week, and you reeked. I seem to remember forcing you into the shower and hosing you down myself." 

He laughed, rubbing his hand over his face as he remembered her shoving him bodily into the trailer's tiny bathroom and ordering him to strip while she stood there like an angry drill sergeant, arms folded and ponytail bristling. "That was the most terrifying moment of my life. I thought you'd lost your mind and decided to have your wicked way with me," he joked. 

"Yeah, 'cause a guy that smells like the beach at low tide is totally my number one sexual fantasy," she teased, settling back against him. 

"Ouch," he muttered, wincing. "Thanks for that." 

"Any time, Buttercup," she said sweetly, tilting her head and blinking innocently at him. 

"And fuck you, too" he replied, mimicking her tone and throwing her own words back at her.  

A bright smile lit up her face and she squished his cheeks in her hands, bumping her forehead against his. "How do you always know how to cheer me up?" 

Dropping a kiss on the end of her nose, he shoved her off his lap and jumped off the bed. "The cheering up hasn't even begun yet, Betts." He strode over to her closet, throwing open the door and rifling through her clothes. "Why is everything in here pink?" 

"Because I'm a virginal ingenue whose wardrobe is a metaphorical chastity belt, of course." 

"Uh huh," he chuckled, looking over his shoulder at her with a cocked eyebrow and a shit-eating grin. "So I imagined the panicked conversation we had last spring about whether or not it was too obvious to wear matching lace underwear?" 

"Haha. My mom picked out everything in that closet, and I think we both know that's the point she was trying to make." She shuddered in revulsion. "I can't believe I lost my virginity to a guy that dumped me for another girl." 

"And I lost mine to my next door neighbour, straddling a motorbike parked beside the river," he answered nonchalantly, fishing out a pink dress and holding it to his chest, examining himself in the mirror with a look of deep contemplation. 

"At least you have a good story to tell," she said wistfully. "Having sex on a motorbike sounds kind of hot." 

"Actually, we almost knocked it over," he admitted, hanging up the pink dress with a dismissive shake of his head. "Doesn't matter who your first is, Betts. Only your last." 

Betty swooned dramatically and collapsed onto her pillows. "You're such a romantic, Juggie." She watched him compare two blouses thoughtfully, grinning at the look of disgust on his face. "Maybe if you tell me what you're looking for?" 

"Something your mother would hate." 

"Intriguing. Why?" 

"Because I'm taking you out tonight, and I want you to feel like you belong on the back of a bike. So, your outfit needs to be pretty much the antithesis of something she would choose." 

"That's true," Betty said slowly. "But I've been on your bike before and you didn't care what I wore. Why now?" 

He rolled his eyes at a frilly white skirt and closed the closet doors with a snap.  "Because putting on leathers makes you feel powerful and confident. I think you need that today." 

She perked up at that. "Leathers? Are you going to let me wear your jacket?" 

"Only if you can find something in this pastel explosion that won't taint it. Which brings us back to something your mother would hate." 

"Well damn, Jug. Why didn't you say so?" she said, dropping to the floor and pulling a storage box out from under her bed. "I have just the thing." She plopped the box onto the bed and pried off the lid. "How's this?" she asked, fishing out a tight, black pencil skirt.  

He nodded approvingly. "It's a good start. You'll probably want a top, too, though. It's chilly out." 

"Very funny." She dug deeper into the box and fished out a silky black halter top and shiny red heels. "There. Cheryl made me buy this outfit but I've never worn it." 

"Well, tonight's the night. I’m giving you twenty minutes to get ready. Think you'll manage?" he asked, settling himself back on the bed and picking up one of Betty's books. 

"Uh, yeah," she scoffed, standing up and pulling off her sweater. "With ten minutes to spare." 

"I'll believe that when I see it," he drawled, flipping through the novel idly. 

She ignored him and shimmied out of her tank top and shorts, plowing through an overflowing dresser drawer until she found a skimpy, strapless, cropped corset that didn't look like it would provide much in the way of modesty or support. "This was a gag-gift from Polly," she explained, hooking herself into it. "What do you think?" Her eyes were bright, like she was getting into the confident-slash-bad-girl spirit. (At least she wasn't mourning the loss of the biggest idiot in the school, for the moment.) 

"I think it clashes horribly with your underwear. Are those goldfish?" he asked, looking up and laughing at the whimsical pattern on her cotton panties.  

"Right. I can't wear these with that skirt, anyway." She dove back into the drawer, searching for something more discrete. "Avert your eyes, please. Amelia already thinks I'm enough of a tramp without you watching me strip." 

He ostentatiously held a pillow in front of his face while she changed her panties and pulled on her clothes, tucking the blousy top into the high-waisted skirt. "Alright, I'm decent," she announced, chasing one of the heels as she tried to hop into it. "Just let me put on some makeup." 

She dashed on some mascara and red-tinted lipgloss and slicked her hair back into a neat, practiced ponytail. "Ready!" 

Jughead glanced at his watch. "Ten minutes to spare," he reported, sounding impressed.  "Think you could give lessons to Kevin? He takes forever to get ready." 

"That's a lost cause, buddy. Sorry," Betty shrugged. "So, how do I look?" She twirled and put her hands on her hips.  

"Gorgeous as always," Jughead said simply. "And badass to boot. Would it be weird to say that your butt looks amazing in that skirt?" 

"Probably, but say it anyway," she laughed.  "I believe I was promised leather?" 

Jughead nodded as he slid off the bed and offered his elbow to Betty. "Quick pit stop at my dorm, then. Ready to have some fun?" 

"Yeah," she said, sounding slightly surprised. "I think I am." 

… 

Jughead parked his vintage Honda Shadow behind the campus bar and clambered off, trying not to kick Betty as he did so. She shoved her skirt back down her thighs and slipped carefully off the bike using Jughead as a shield, reflecting wryly that pencil skirts were not designed with motorcycles in mind.  

He adjusted the black leather jacket on her slim shoulders and she grinned up at him, extremely conscious of the brilliant emerald emblem of the Serpents – once a notorious gang but now a harmless motorcycle club – on her back. Jughead had been right; she did feel powerful and confident. Not at all like she'd been dumped by her first love that very day.  

They showed their IDs at the door and accepted the hot pink wristbands that identified them as underage. It was noisy and crowded inside, but there was no line for the coat check. Betty reluctantly handed over Jughead's jacket and immediately dragged him onto the dance floor, tucking her ticket into his shirt pocket.  

"I love this song," she confessed, shrugging self-deprecatingly. "Humour me, just this once." 

He rolled his eyes at the obvious auto-tune and sugary pop beat, but took her hand and wrapped one arm around her waist with a good-natured grimace. "This had better not become a habit, Cooper. Your excellent taste in music is the only reason I keep you around. Don't let me down, now." 

"I thought it was because I feed you," she said, bobbing her head and moving to the music. 

"That too."  

He was a naturally good dancer, and Betty noticed several girls eyeing him appreciatively from the sidelines.  

"Don't look now, but you've got an audience," she whispered in his ear. "Guess that moody hipster look you've got going on does it for college girls." 

"Are you sure they're not checking you out?" he teased, deflecting. 

"Fairly sure," she said wryly as the song ended and she let him go. "I'm going to run to the ladies'. Feel like something to drink?" She didn't wait for an answer, just grinned at him cheekily and melted into the crowd. 

Jughead fought his way to the bar and ordered two sodas. A hand came crashing down on his shoulder and he started and turned around. "Kevin," he said, surprised. "I thought you were going home for the weekend." 

"Change of plans," Kevin said impatiently. "Who was that?!" 

"Who was who?"   

"The blonde bombshell you were just dancing with. I didn't see her face but even I noticed the rest of her." 

Jughead shook his head disbelievingly. "I was dancing with Betty."  

Kevin's eyes just about bugged out of his head. "Betty Cooper?" 

"Do you know anyone else under fifty who goes by Betty?" 

"Betty Cooper, perfect daughter and co-captain of the cheerleading squad? Betty Cooper who only wears pink cardigans and white sneakers?" 

"Yes, Kevin." Jughead rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable. 

"Hot damn!" Kevin cried. "College is already good for her. I thought it would take until at least Christmas to get her to wear black. Is Archie here? He must be losing his mind over that skirt." 

Jughead leaned in and spoke as quietly as he could over the music. "They broke up. Archie met someone else." 

A stormy look passed over Kevin's normally pleasant face. "He dumped her for someone else?" 

"That's what he told me," Jughead confirmed, scooping up a handful of pretzels from a bowl on the bar. "I thought getting her out of her room might cheer her up." 

"And the outfit?" 

Jughead shrugged. "Partly my fault. Toni always used to say that the best way to get over a loser is to go out looking like you're celebrating his untimely demise." 

"Excellent advice," Kevin said approvingly. He hesitated, glancing around to see if Betty was nearby. "Are you going to make a move?" 

"On who? Toni? That ship has sailed, bro." 

"On Betty, Captain Oblivious," Kevin snapped. "She's single now and you two would make the cutest little Harry Potter babies." 

Jughead recoiled, looking horrified. "Jesus Christ, Kev. Does the Sherriff know you smoke crack? It's Betty. Why the fuck would I make any kind of move on her?" 

"Seriously? You still don't see it?" 

"There's nothing to see. I know you've shipped it since middle school, but it's not going to happen. We don't see each other like that." 

"Not even a little bit?" 

"An hour ago, she was standing in her room in some see-through bra...thing, and I noticed that it didn't match her underwear," he answered with finality. 

Kevin sighed in defeat. "Yeah, okay. Point taken." 

Betty appeared just then and threw her arms around Kevin. "Kev! What are you doing here? I thought you went home." 

"I'm on a date," he said mischievously. "I just came over to congratulate Jughead on snapping up the hottest girl in the gin joint, and imagine my surprise when he told me it was you. Channeling your inner Wanda Woodward?" 

"Something like that," she laughed. "Did you hear that our friendly, neighbourhood square ditched me?" 

"Yeah. Cry-baby over here filled me in. You okay?" 

She shrugged and accepted a soda from Jughead. "Hurt, obviously, and pretty pissed, but I'll be alright." 

Jughead rolled his eyes at the by-play. "Nothing like a night at Turkey Point to make it all better, right?" 

"Speaking of," Kevin drawled. "There's a drape in the corner waiting for me, so I'll excuse myself." He hugged Betty briefly. "Call me if you need a night of ice cream and chick-flicks." 

"Never ceases to amaze me how he can go from man-eating nymphomaniac to supportive friend in one conversation," Jughead said fondly, watching Kevin walk away. "But I really hope he doesn't bring his date back to our dorm room." 

"You can crash with me tonight," she offered. "Least I can do is offer you shelter from Kevin's voracious sex life." 

"You're a saint," he said, bumping his shoulder into hers. "Wanna dance? They're playing our song." 

Her eyes widened in surprise and she strained to hear the lyrics of the heavily-remixed dance tune pulsing through the bar. Sure enough, the unmistakable harmony of Sonny and Cher was buried under the pounding bass and questionable electronic accompaniment.  

"Hell yes!" she squealed, dragging him back onto the floor and singing loudly along. " _And when I'm sad, you're a clown..._ " She poked him forcefully in the ribs and he obediently joined in. " _And if I get scared, you're always around._ " 

Laughing at his off-key warble, she belted out the rest of the verse, drawing the attention of everyone in the vicinity. "We need to find a karaoke place," she laughed breathlessly. "This is so much fun!" 

"You go right ahead and do that," he grinned. "I promise to clap enthusiastically when you're done." 

"I can't even call you a killjoy when you're actually dancing to a disco remix," she said, rolling her eyes. "You've chosen your moment well." The song finished and she threw her arms around his neck, planting a sticky kiss on his cheek. "You're the best, Juggie. Thanks for this. Best breakup ever." 

"Anything for you, Betts." He checked his watch, squinting in the dim light. "We've only got about twenty minutes before they toss the minors out. What do you want to do?" 

"Is it that late already? We may as well head back to my dorm. We could order some pizza, maybe watch a movie?" 

" _Jaws_?" he asked, knowing that it was a rhetorical question. 

Betty pursed her lips and frowned, pretending to think it over. "Alright, I guess. If you can't think of anything better. For example, there's always _Bridget Jones' Diary_." 

"Don't even joke about that, Cooper." 

"It's a quintessential breakup movie," she teased. 

He groaned and screwed up his face. "Fine," he huffed. "If you're going to insist on playing that card, then I will sit through the world's worst retelling of _Pride and Prejudice_. Once." 

"You obviously haven't seen the Greer Garson version," she muttered. "Shall we? There's going to be a huge line for the coat check if we wait much longer." 

He followed her through the crowd, jogging to keep up with her purposeful strides. "Wait, Betts. You weren't serious about _Bridget Jones_ , were you? We may have to negotiate that a bit. Betts?" 

… 

An hour later, he was knocking on her door again, dressed in pyjama pants and a soft t-shirt.  

"Hey!" Betty said, opening the door. "What took you so long? I thought you were just going to shower and change." 

"Dorm showers are the worst, Betts. Every guy on my floor was in there and I had to wait forever." 

She wrinkled her nose as he moved past her into the room. "I thought I detected the lingering odour of too much Axe. The pizza just got here, so your timing is impeccable, anyway." 

"What's with the décor?" he asked, nodding to an elaborate silk screen set up in the middle of the room.  

Betty giggled quietly and rolled her eyes. "Amelia," she whispered. "Preserving her modesty. She doesn't want to see us – quote - fornicating." 

"Does she not know that you've been single for less than 24 hours? She really thinks you're going to jump into the sack with me? Also, ew. No offense." 

"None taken. I told you she thinks I'm a tramp, and technically, I am going to jump into the sack with you." 

He considered that for a minute. "I guess, in the literal sense of the phrase." He flopped onto Betty's bed and arranged her mountain of pillows against the wall. "So, movie?" 

"Wow, no foreplay? You suck in bed," she laughed, dropping down next to him and handing him the box of pizza. "Unfortunately, I couldn't stream _Bridget Jones_ , so you'll have to settle for _Jaws_. Sorry, I know you were looking forward to it." 

"How will I ever survive?" he deadpanned, reaching over and pressing play on the laptop. "Do we need headphones?" 

"Not tonight. Amelia felt that it would be prudent to take a large sleeping pill. She won't hear a thing." 

"Smart of her. You do tend to squeal during the scary parts." 

She elbowed him in the ribs "Only so you don't get embarrassed when you cry at the end." 

"Betty," he hissed. "You promised never to talk about that." 

"Oh, my God," she giggled. "Shut up and watch the movie, you dork." 

… 

Jughead woke up to a room full of light, and a snoring Betty draped across him, still dead to the world. He grinned and brushed her hair off her face, wondering how anyone could breathe with a mouth full of curls. Moving as carefully as he could, he reached for the nook in her headboard and picked up his phone.  

He scrolled through his notifications, 'liking' a selfie Betty had snapped of the two of them on his bike the previous night, captioned simply "The Wade to my Wanda", and choosing to ignore the disturbing text from Kevin, promising to have the area rug in their dorm room steam cleaned.  

Betty stirred and stretched, opening her eyes one at a time. "Juggie, I love you, but it smells like something died in your mouth," she muttered.  

"Good morning to you, too," he laughed. "This is the thanks I get for letting you put your freezing feet under my legs?" 

"It's not my fault you're a furnace," she mumbled. "I run cold." 

"I'll say," he groused. "It's like sleeping with Frosty the Snowman." 

She pushed herself up and propped her head up on her hand. "Would you rather share a room with Kevin and his mystery date?" 

"Point taken," he said, holding up his hands in defeat. "My body heat is your body heat." 

"That's what I thought," she said smugly, cuddling back against him.  

"Maybe not right this second, though? I have to pee, and your knee right there is not helping." 

Dragging the blankets over her head, she kicked him lightly and rolled away. "Overshare, weirdo. Go on then, there's a men's room at the end of the hall."  

He shoved his hat on and grabbed her key off the headboard, tiptoeing past Amelia's silk fortress. 

"Jug?" came a muffled voice from under Betty's quilt. "Can you bring back coffee?" 

"What do I get out of it?" he teased. 

"My undying gratitude." 

"Throw in breakfast, and you've got a deal." 

"Done." She peeked over the blankets and grinned at him. "Love you, Juggie." 

"Love you, too, Betts." 

_**fin** _


End file.
